The Storm
by Morgause1
Summary: A storm, a hut, and repressed emotions. As Rose says, all they need is some hot chocolate to make it perfect.


They were wandering in the fjords of Smele 4 when the storm broke. Holding hands and laughing, they ran for shelter to the nearest town. They only just managed to slam the door of the rented hut behind them when the sky opened, turning the world into a wall of water.

Rose looked around her as the Doctor searched the room for a means to make light: a wooden table, some shelves, a carpet and a large bed. She blushed and thanked God for the darkness. The Doctor found a thick wax candle, and the room was filled with a warm, yellow light. They set down on the window sill.

"All we need is hot chocolate and some marshmallows, and it'll be perfect." Said Rose.

The Doctor smiled. "Sorry. Don't keep the likes in my pockets."

"So, what do you want to do now? Wanna play Truth or Dare?"

"No. Look at the sky, Rose. Every storm has a story, and the clouds tell it."

"What, you wanna look for shapes in the clouds?" The Doctor only placed a finger on his lips.

They sat quietly for a while, watching the clouds rolling over their heads and the purple lightning that zigzagged across them. Rose glanced at the Doctor. His face was a mirror of the skies. "Are you alright?"

"Sure."

"So why's the face?"

"I'm trying not to be insulted here."

"Didn't mean that," Rose laughed. "You look like there's something on your mind."

"Maybe. Not a big fan of storms, me."

Thunder rolled, close and scary. Rose recalled the Doctor telling her that the Daleks called him the Oncoming Storm. She glanced at his dark silhouette and tried very much not to look at the bed.

"It reminds me… when I was a kid," the Doctor started in a strange, detached voice. "A massive storm broke in the mountains by my house. I was still small, frightened. I ran home and managed to get inside a second before the house was sealed. My tulenrai was running after me… you can imagine a dog, if it helps," he added, seeing the confusion on her face. "I managed to get inside, it didn't. I heard it wail by the door for hours. But even though I begged and begged, my old man didn't let it in." he frowned. "'Time Lords above all' was the mantra. Yeah, right. He could have saved it and nothing bad would have happened to his high-and-mighty self."

"What happened to your tul… your animal?"

"It drowned." He suddenly smirked. "Some 'Silence of the Lambs', me, eh? Trying to get that poor tulenrai to finally shut up…"

Rose didn't know what to say. He never spoke to her about his childhood, his family, his life before he became a nomad. She put her hand on his knee and squeezed lightly. He was looking at the window but his hand snuck into hers, caressing it. Suddenly he stirred, embarrassed, and let go of her hand. Rose tried a different technique.

"You're not the only one around here with storm stories. When I was five there was this huge storm. Trees fell down, and the neighbors' car got all crooked up. I got scared and ran to my Mum's room, crying. She hugged me, and we set down on the window sill to watch the storm with a cup of hot chocolate. The lightning was so beautiful… it was worth tolerating the thunder for the beauty of the lightning. I wasn't afraid of storms ever since."

"Cute story."

"Yeah."

They were silent. Rose tried to keep her emotions at bay, but they were like the water outside, stirring and flooding and tearing down everything. And then: "It's a bit like you," she heard herself say, as if from a great distance. "Being with you is worth all the monsters, the fear and the running."

He turned to her abruptly. His gaze was intense, but she could not read his expression.  
"Don't let it go to your head, yeah?" she tried to retreat to safe, familiar bunter.

"Rose…"

"Doctor?"

He opened his mouth and tried to speak, but no words came out. Suddenly he changed his mind.

"It's late, and it doesn't seem like the storm's about to end soon. You should get some sleep."

"What about you?"

"I'm not tired. Good night." He remained sitting by the window, hugging his knees to his chest. He was looking at the rain. He was certainly not looking at the bed.


End file.
